Reminders
by Ulquiorra-isn't-emo
Summary: Collection of short drabbles and oneshots. All Miggy, all the time. T cause I'm paranoid. Named after the first drabble.
1. Reminders

**Got bored. Once again.**

**Poem-fic**

**Title: Reminders**

**Summary: They're always together, even miles apart.**

**Rating: K+ It's pretty clean, I guess.**

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A gentle touch,

An accidental brush.

These are the things that helped him remember.

On the run

Or under the sun

Be it October, November, December.

Here or there,

Grounded or in the air,

It is that meaningless contact,

That sound of her breath,

The quiet of her rest,

It always has the same impact.

He will never forget,

There are dangers, yet

She will always be there for him.

She will always see,

Where ever she may be,

His love for her is not a silly whim.

It's those subtle touches

Those gentle brushes

That remind them, where ever they may be.


	2. That One

**To Miggyness! Even though this one's solely about Iggy. I've noticed that Iggy, Nudge, and Gazzy are slowly becoming background characters in the series...**

**Title: That One**

**Summary: How Iggy became blind.**

**Rating: T for dark themes and mild torture (a.k.a. whitecoats)**

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Loud beeps pierced my ears. Sweat poured down my face, neck, and back. My bare feet slapped down on the rubber belt, running against it. The little suction cups attached all over me were feeling itchy and annoying. If I hesitated, a sharp electrical current jolted my body. Several men stood around, scratching words onto clipboards and muttering amongst themselves. I wanted to ask them to help me, beg them to let me off. But my throat was too dry. I hadn't had water in what seemed like forever. And still they pushed me on.

I paused, for a fraction of a second, and the zap came, as expected. Through my squinted eyes, I saw my arms thrash wildly. I couldn't feel them, though. All my nerves seem to be numbed, the second after the unbearable pain. The men in white coats glanced up, scribbling furiously all the while. I sprinted even faster on the machine, escaping the men, escaping the pain, escaping the darkness creeping up on the edge of my mind.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted to curl up in the dank, hollow cage, my sanctuary, and hide from all of this. But whenever I tried to stop, the pain came and they made me keep running. Sometimes I would close my eyes and imagine I was running to something. Something worthwhile. It could be a real home, somewhere light and happy. I could be a family, free from this prison. It could be something shallow, like food or a blanket.

But sometimes my fantasies morphed in more negative ways. They would transform so I was running _from_ something. I would feel the hot breath of an Eraser on my neck, and my eyes would snap open in panic. The ferocious growl of a monster would make me jump and glance over my shoulder. Even the humming of medical machinery and the subtle click of a needle would pour adrenaline into my veins. Though I knew it was all in my head, it still made me scamper faster.

Finally, I collapsed. My body couldn't take anymore. I let the machine push me onto the floor. The cool concrete felt nice on my swollen, overused muscles. They gave me a few shocks to make sure I was really done. Once they were through with watching me spasm on the ground, the suction cups were ripped off and I was given a glass of water. I chugged the entire glass in one gulp, then held it up for more. The white-clad menhad all huddled together, comparing notes and completely ignoring me. Words drifted through their circle.

_Amazing._

_Most stamina._

_Fastest._

_Without a break._

_Constant breathing rate_.

I hugged my knees to my chest, unsure of what they were talking about. If I was the best, were they going to let me go? Would I be given better treatment? Guilt twisted uncomfortably trough my stomach at that though. That wouldn't be fair. Even if I was the best. I wanted Max to be treated good too. And Gazzy and Angel and Fang. They were my friends. We should all be treated the same. I was about to open my mouth to say something when I was grabbed under the arms roughly and taken back to my cage.

I caught one last jumble of words before I was 'escorted' from the room.

_That one. Operation._

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The next time they threw me back in my cage, I was blind. This place already seemed dark, but now it was utterly black. I cried and cried and cried, even though the pain was long gone. I heard the sobbing of my friends around me as they cried for me when my tears ran out. Max reached a thin hand through the bars in her cage and latched onto mine. I grapsed the hand, gladly accepting the comfort.

"Iggy, you have to remember. Never draw attention to yourself. Never do the best. They always take the strongest ones."


	3. Every Autumn

**ARGH! I was halfway done this one and I saved it and it deleted itself! Miggy, but it could be Fax if you want it to be...**

**Title: Every Autumn**

**Summary: Iggy listens to bird calls all the time. They remind him of her.**

**Rating: K+ Clean, but off-camera character death and minor angst.**

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They used to listen to the birds every morning. The birds would chirp, caw, and sing. The calls would tell them what season it was, and what the weather was going to be like. Ever morning, they would go out together and listen to the daily chatter of the forest. Birds hopped from branch to branch, exchanging the gossip of the woods. In the winter, the more solemn birds emerged, usually single and bleak. No matter what the season, though, they were always out there, every morning, listening to the birds.

In the spring, they used to joke that it was mating season. The males would twitter loudly, attempting to grab the attention of a female. The other birds would soon join in the cacophony, creating and beautiful, enormous din. This, of course, encouraged him to squawk loudly, flapping his wings, earning a giggle and a shush from her. The cheerful summer and spring birds were so happy and blissful. They were heralds of new life and warm days to come.

Then arrived the fall, quieter and more modest then the hot months. The birdcalls of autumn were mature and reserved, not trying to outdo each other. They worked in simple harmony. It was more peaceful and the serene than the obnoxious chirping of the spring and summer. They would often sit on the roof for hours, just letting the melodious sounds wash over them. When he was feeling brave or unusually happy, he would sing wordlessly along, impeccably in tune with the birds.

Finally, when the last stragglers have migrated away, the warms days melted away, surrending to the cold and snow. This was when the lonely ravens emerged, their obsolete cries echoing around the trees. The destitute crowing sounded so austere and isolated. Those times reminded them that they weren't always safe, and that there was no guarantee that they would have each other. Those were the weeks they spent the most amount of time in each other's arms. But then the warm day return, banishing the ice and allowing them to relax again.

Of course, that of was all before _it_ happened.

Now he listens to the birds by himself, the only thing he'll accept to remind him of her. Ever since she left – he refuses to think 'died' – he's been avoiding things that will make him think of her. He doesn't want to remember how much he loved, no _loves_ her. It will only make the emptiness worse. But he tries to cope with it. He tries to act normal around his friends. They can't help but notice how he's been since it happened, but they say nothing of it, out of respect.

Now, every day, he listens to the chirps, caws, and singing by himself. Every day, in any season or weather. Autumn makes him the happiest. It brings back good memories, memories of short days spent together, singing with the birds. The colors he can feel in the leaves remind him of her hair, and her wings. The quiet and level-headedness of the calls sound like her voice. Even the smell of autumn, of falling leavings and hints of cold, had the same scent as her.

So that's what he named their daughter. Autumn.

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**A/N: I really like this one, even if it is a little depressing. No, I didn't go and look up birdcalls for this one. I actually sit and listen to birds. That's how I tell was season it is and what the weather's going to be like. Yes, I am weird. But hey, it's an easy way to get the forecast without getting out of bed.**


	4. Gates of Heaven

**A/N: This is depressing. I'm sorry. The majority of these drabbles seem to be depressing...**

**Title: Gate of Heaven**

**Summary: Poemfic from Iggy's PoV**

**Rating: T for angst and character to death.**

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How many times have I heard her,  
Hurting, fighting, dying?  
How many times has she said  
"I'm alright," and take off flying?  
She's invincible, untouchable.  
She's never lost, always won.  
She's our leader, headstrong.  
She's endless, she's never done.  
But here she is, bloodless and cold.  
Lying in my arms, stained by my tears.  
I feel empty, without the beat of her heart.  
She's gone, fulfilled all my fears.  
What am I now, but a burden?  
What am I now, but a dead weight?  
I'm no use anymore.  
I've nothing to do but wait,  
For the glorious day,  
When I too will come to an end.  
When I will join her,  
At the gates of heaven.


End file.
